


Kinship

by misshoneywell



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, In-Panem, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:57:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4046899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misshoneywell/pseuds/misshoneywell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of course Katniss loves Peeta. He's her best friend. Her family. Wanting anything more than that would be sick, unnatural. But the heart wants what the heart wants.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kinship

**Author's Note:**

> Warning: Incest between first cousins.

A woman clutches a tiny dark-haired girl to her chest and hurries back to the Seam before curfew. The girl turns her head when they pass a blonde boy cradled in his mother’s arms, their wide eyes searching each other out as if by instinct.

The two young women brush past each other, silent and unsmiling. The toddlers reach out and lock fingers as they pass, their tiny faces crumpling when their mothers hastily pull them apart.

—-

It’s the first day of school and she doesn’t know any of the kids except Leevy. The other girl is sitting _all_ the way at the beginning of the line with her brother, leaving Katniss alone and scared while she sits and waits for her name tag.

She startles when a chubby boy plops down next to her and pulls her shaking hand into his.

"Hi," the five-year-old says, kind of shy and sweet. "I’m your cousin."

"What’s a cousin?" she asks, but doesn’t pull away from his warm and somewhat sticky fingers.

"It means we’re family." He gives a sly look around them and pulls a crumbling treat from a napkin in his pocket. "Daddy said I could share this with you." He pops half of the cookie into her open mouth, and her eyes widen.

"I’m Peeta," he says, a crumb at the corner of his pink lips.

She reaches out and brushes at his mouth. "I’m Katniss."

Peeta beams. "I know." 

—-

He chooses her in every game during recess, and she shares her mat with him during their nap hours.  It doesn’t even bother her that the other girls, like Lolla Lincoln, snub her during Arts and Crafts.

Because she has _Peeta_.

Katniss has never had a best friend or a cousin, and she’s so over-the-moon when she skips home from school that she can’t help but tell her family every little thing about Peeta Mellark.

She misses the way her parents look at each other, dismayed.

—-

“I don’t want him to hurt Katniss,” Layla Everdeen whispers, curled into her husband’s side after they put Katniss to bed.

“He seems like a sweet boy,” Darwin replies, stroking her hair. “I think it’s good that she has a friend.”

Layla shakes her head. “My sister will never stand for it.”

“Maybe she’ll surprise you.”

\---

"Do it again," Peeta says, his eyes wide and misty.

She turns bashful, kicking at a pile of leaves with the toe of her worn, second-hand shoe. “Why?”

Ever since she stood up and sang the Valley Song that morning, Peeta has been begging endlessly for her to sing again.

"It’s _beautiful_."

"My dad sings it better," she replies, dropping her eyes to the ground.

"Well" -he squares his little shoulders, broad for a six-year-old- "You still sound like the prettiest thing I’ve ever heard."

She kisses him on the cheek.

—-

"Absolutely not," Mallory Mellark says, slamming the receipt book shut. She walks to the front of the store and flips the sign to read _CLOSED_ before taking a breath and turning around to face her husband and son.

"Mal-" Bran Mellark starts, but it’s Peeta who interrupts.

"She has to come." His eyes are wide and wet, his lower lip trembling not with sadness but with a rage he has never felt before in his tender, young life. "It’s my birthday! I want her to come!"

"I said _no.”_

 _“_ But she’s -she’s family!” Peeta looks at his father, who in turn glances away. Mallory stares at him, her face clouding with the realization. “Daddy, you said Katniss is my _family_ and to look out for her at school.”

"Bran!" Mallory exclaims angrily, ignoring Peeta. "How could you fill his head with that talk?”

"He is her cousin, Mallory." He holds his hands out helplessly, his palms splayed in supplication. "He should know her."

"I refuse-"

"I want her! She’s my best friend, and I want her!" Peeta shouts. His parents look at him in shock. Even as a baby, Peeta barely so much as whimpered, let alone screamed, even when he took a rough tumble down the back steps of the bakery. "It’s not _fair_. You never let her come and play!’

"Now, Peeta. You have plenty of friends in town. Little Delly Cart-"

Peeta narrows his eyes and holds his breath until he passes out.

When he wakes up, he has such a tantrum that his parents send him to his room, his father baffled and his mother angry.

"What will the neighbors say?” Mallory frets, her eyes darting toward the bedroom of their son. "This is humiliating. I’ve never seen such a fit!"

"Let the girl come over," Bran coaxes, his voice soft. " What will it hurt? She’s your niece."

Her eyes flash. “I will _not_ have her mother in my house.“

Bran shakes his head. “No, no. I’ll walk her home. I’ll handle everything.”

"I bet," she replies grimly, but in the end, she relents.

Katniss comes over after school the next day with permission from her parents. Mallory tries not to be charmed by the way the little girl stares at their house with wide, awe-filled eyes, or how she delights in the small birthday cake she’s allowed to share with Peeta. And as the two children giggle happily, their light and dark heads bent together, Mallory Mellark feels a pang in her chest at the sight.

It’s the first time her sister’s child is in her home, but it’s far from the last.

—-

"Peeta, Peeta, pumpkin eater!"

"Did you swallow a _whole_ cake by yourself?"

Peeta turns a dull red as their classmates tease him during play break. He sits on an old, rusted set of swings and stares down at the ground, his feet dragging in the dirt as he slowly rocks back and forth.

Katniss kneels at his feet, a comforting hand on his knee.  "Don’t listen to them," the eight-year-old says to him. "They’re stupid.”

"Peeta, do you eat _all_ the pies in the bakery?” Dash Parnell snickers.

Katniss stands up, her back perfectly straight and her small hands at her side. “Leave him alone!” She blocks Peeta protectively, her legs spread apart in a defensive stance.

"What if I don’t, Seam girl?" Dash taunts, stepping so close she can see five tiny freckles on the bridge on his nose. “What are you gonna do about it?”

She sucks in a breath, rears back, and punches him right in the freckles.

—-

"That little Seam girl is over at your house often," the tailor’s wife says. "She's quite the trouble-maker, I've heard. Why, she even hit the butcher’s son just last week!"

"Your point?" Mallory Mellark asks, handing her a coin and tugging the package out of her hands. She knows exactly why Katniss hit the butcher’s son-- the little brat had it coming.

"Well." The other woman shifts, trying to regain her air of officiousness. "I would have thought, since- well, _you know_. Your sister-"

"No. I most certainly _do not_ know," Mallory states coldly, turning on her heel and walking away.

She charges the tailor’s wife double for bread that month, and snaps at Katniss for even longer than usual.

—-

"Come on, Peeta!" Timm Lasseter yells. "Come play with us."

"I’m playing with Katniss." He kicks a ball to her and smiles. "If you want to play with us, you can."

Katniss flushes and looks down, absently toeing the ball back and forth. Peeta tries his best to make her feel included, to make her accepted within his group of Merchant friends, but they take no more of a shine to her than the Seam kids do to him despite the fact that he’s the nicest boy in Twelve.

She knows his Townie friends tease him about her, and she can’t help but feel like a burden even after six years of being his best friend. She doesn’t care what they think— she dislikes the Merchant kids deeply. Even though Peeta isn’t capable of holding a grudge, she’ll never forget how they had tormented him when he was small and chubby.

"Hey," Peeta says, coming to her side and throwing an arm around her shoulder. Timm gives them a strange look from across the schoolyard. "Don’t look like that." He squeezes her.

"They don’t like me."

"If you want to play by ourselves, we can," Peeta says firmly.

"We're coming," Timm grumbles as he walks toward them with Dash Parnell in tow, joining them for a game of kickball.

Peeta smiles that secret smile at her. “Never mind.” He throws the ball to them. “We don’t want to play anymore.”

And then he grabs her hand and pulls her away.

—-

The day the mines cave in is the day that Katniss changes. She’s quiet, and no longer sings or smiles, even for Peeta. She doesn’t come over to play. Even worse, she hides from him at school.

"Well," Mallory says during an especially quiet dinner. She clears her throat. "I do hope Layla is feeding the girl, at least."

"She looks real skinny," Peeta whispers miserably, his face pale. "She won’t talk to me."

His parents exchange looks.

—-

"Katniss," Peeta says, squeezing beside her in an old, dusty closet in a long-abandoned classroom. He’s twelve and still big-boned, even if he’s not chubby anymore. He wheezes, but valiantly hangs on. "Please, eat this." He shoves a sandwich into her hands, and it falls out of her limp fingers.

"Katniss," he says frantically, pulling her toward him between his painfully bent legs, and she falls against him, cobwebs in her frighteningly brittle, black hair. "Please, please."

She cries for the first time since her father died.

"My mother is sick," she whispers.

—-

Layla Everdeen dies a few weeks later, and the Community Home comes for Katniss. A woman is escorting her away when Mr. Mellark hustles toward them, sweating and out of breath.

"Wait!" He holds up a sheet of paper. "I’ve just come from the Justice Building."

"And?" the woman asks irritably, yanking on Katniss’ arm. The girl barely flinches.

"And she’s mine," Bran Mellark says, gently but firmly pulling her away from the Community Home agent. "We’re her family. She’s coming to live with us."

—-

"Where will she sleep?" Mrs. Mellark asks, shaking her head.

"With Peeta."

"Is that really appropriate, Bran?”

"They’re family."

She raises an eyebrow and looks at the couch, the way Katniss lies with her head in Peeta’s lap while he strokes her hair with a comforting hand.

Mr. Mellark is silent.

"I’ll trade extra with the carpenter," he finally says. "We’ll get another bed."

——

It’s their first Reaping and Katniss is still practically catatonic. Peeta stares at her from across the boys’ section and almost vomits with relief when another Seam girl is called, someone named Leevy. He misses the name of the boy, because Katniss blinks and turns her head, meeting Peeta’s eyes for the first time in weeks.

"I love you," she mouths.

He closes his eyes in relief, the same words on his lips.

——

"You might as well start making yourself useful," Mrs. Mellark snaps, briskly tying an apron around Katniss’ waist. "Time to earn your keep."

"Okay, Mrs. Mellark."

"Call me Aunt Mallory, for Capitol’s sake."

Peeta raises an eyebrow at her from across the kitchen, and Katniss looks back in bewilderment.

"Yes, Aunt Mallory," she corrects herself, rolling the balls of dough with her fingers the way she’s seen Peeta do it a hundred times.

—-

She loves it at the bakery. She loves living with the Mellarks. The smell of sugar, the baking bread, her small but comfortable bed next to Peeta’s, separated by a sheet of cloth hung for privacy. All of it-- even her grumpy Aunt Mallory.

She misses her parents with a fierceness that still takes her breath away, but the pain fades, slowly but surely. She feels guilty by how often she forgets her pain.

Suddenly, she’s thirteen, and she and Peeta have survived their second Reaping. After a victory dinner of precious meat for which Mr. Mellark traded with the butcher, she sneaks into Peeta’s bed and he holds her close, his arms clutching her tightly. His fingers make light circles on her back, and it feels impossibly good, and so warm. Comforting.

"You’re not just my family, " Peeta whispers into her hair. Her heart beats, fast and funny in her chest. "You’re my best friend, Katniss."

"Me too," she says into his neck.

—-

"Hi, Katniss," Dash Parnell says, his voice cracking with fourteen-year-old boy nerves.

"Hi," she replies slowly, exchanging a look with Peeta at the lunch table.

Dash clears his throat, his green eyes darting away and back to meet her curious grey ones. “Can I walk you home after school?”

"I walk her home," Peeta says in confusion, his eyebrows slamming together.

"I know." The other boy stares down at Peeta before looking back at Katniss. He licks his lips. "I just…I thought, maybe you would like…."

Peeta squeezes her hand under the table.

"No, thanks," Katniss finally says, not unkindly. "We have a bakery shift."

"What was that about?" Peeta asks in low tones, watching as Dash slowly walks to the end of the table and takes a seat next to Timm. He catches them looking his way, and a dull blush blossoms over his fair cheeks before he quickly looks down at his plate.

"I have no idea." She shrugs, biting into a stale dinner roll.

Peeta is annoyed the rest of the afternoon.

—-

Katniss rocks back on her heels in antsy agitation. Her eyes dart toward the stairs for the hundredth time since she got home from school, and she prays Aunt Mallory will dismiss her early.

 

Peeta has been ignoring her ever since she let Dash walk her home this afternoon. She didn’t _want_ to do it-- it's just that he was relentless about it, asking her every day for a week with that hopeful look on his face. He finally succeeded in cornering her when Peeta wasn't there to run interference, and she had agreed with reluctance, walking beside him stiffly and nodding in reply to his awkward attempts at conversation, desperately trying to catch Peeta's eyes as he rushed past them toward the bakery.

 

Katniss was actually relieved when Aunt Mallory shooed Dash away from the bakery steps, impatiently pulling her inside.

 

"Peeta doesn't feel well," she had said with a roll of her eyes, pushing Katniss toward the kitchen. "I need you for the afternoon rush."

 

But now the rush is over, and there are only a few dishes left to be washed.

 

"Can I please go upstairs?" she begs, tapping her foot.

 

"Fine," her aunt huffs out. "But- _Katniss!_ Don't run up the stairs!"

 

But Katniss is already gone, stomping toward their bedroom. She pauses at the closed toward but doesn't even consider knocking.

 

"Peeta, I-" She stops and stares, watching as he turns so red his face is almost purple. He frantically pulls his comforter to cover his lap.

 

"What?" he practically shouts, fisting the bed cover. She's never seen him so angry. Not at _her_. "Get out!'

 

She backs up so fast she almost falls, and she avoids him the rest of the afternoon. Peeta can't look her in the eye at dinner, and excuses himself early from the table.

 

"Is he still sick?" Uncle Bran asks with concern.

 

"I guess so," Katniss says, and excuses herself as well.

 

\---

 

She listens to Peeta pretend to be asleep, but it's useless for him to try to hide himself from her. After sharing a room for more than two years, she's an expert on every rhythm of his breath. Every twitch of his body on the squeaky bed.

 

"I'm sorry," finally comes his voice out of the dark.

 

"It's okay," she whispers. "I'll knock from now on. I promise."

 

Silence _._

 

 "It's okay, you know?" she adds. "It's normal."

 

Peeta groans. "We can't talk about this."

 

"Why'd you get so mad, anyway?" she asks bravely. "Everyone does it- touch themselves, I mean. I do, sometimes.”

 

Silence. The bed squeaks.

 

"Go to _bed_ , Katniss."

 

"Are you still upset with me?" Her voice is small.

 

He exhales, the sound strangled. "No."

 

\---

 

Surviving the Reaping at fifteen looks different than years prior, mostly because it involves an underground party at the slag heap and highly illegal alcohol acquired from Ripper’s stall by someone’s older brother.

 

Katniss loses Peeta somewhere along her third cup of rot-gut white liquor mixed with watered down tea. She’s flushed and woozy when someone taps her on the shoulder.

 

“Peeta and Madge look awfully close,” Dash whispers into her ear.

 

Her eyes follow where he points, her dark eyebrows furrowing together in shock when she sees Peeta push Madge up against a tree, his lips suctioned to hers, his hand dangerously low on her trim waist.

 

She blinks, her stomach giving a violent churn. It has nothing to do with the alcohol.

 

"Are you okay?" Dash asks with concern, grabbing her hand and leading her away to sit down on a nearby tree stump.

 

"Yes," she mutters, trying to erase the sight of Peeta kissing Madge Undersee, but it’s impossible. She doesn’t know if she’s more disgusted with Peeta or herself.

 

He’s her cousin. Why does she care who he kisses?

 

"Are you sure- _mmph_.”

 

Katniss has never kissed a boy before, but she thinks it mustn’t be too complicated when Dash sighs dreamily against her lips, his hand moving to cup her face eagerly. She’s confused when she’s pulled backward, and the only thing stopping her fall is an arm around her waist that yanks her to her feet none-too-gently.

 

"Come on,” Peeta says lowly. “We’re going home.”

 

\----

 

"Why’d you kiss her?" Katniss asks, her back to him as she washes dishes. They haven’t spoken in two days— not since he all but dragged her back home after the party, almost carrying her up the stairs to their room because she was too tipsy to walk.

 

He slams a pot down on the counter. “Excuse me? You were kissing Dash.”

 

"Only after _you_ kissed Madge!" She turns to glare at him over her shoulder.

 

He stills, his blue eyes incredulous. “You kissed him to make me jealous?”

 

Her thin shoulders slump, and she turns away to face the sink again. “No,” Katniss whispers, scrubbing violently at a muffin pan. “Yes- I don’t know.”

 

“Why would you do that?” he presses.

 

“I don’t know.”

 

She hears Peeta approach her before she feels the warm breath on the back of her neck. He gently moves her braid to the side and touches his lips to the top of her spine. She can’t breathe.

 

“ _Kat_ niss,” he says.

 

The door slams open and they spring apart, both sick with guilt and nerves when his mother walks in and grabs a loaf of bread from the cooling rack.

 

\----

 

They don’t speak about his lips on her neck, or the way her name rolled off his tongue like a lover’s secret. They silently agree to never speak of it.

 

But Peeta never so much as looks twice in Madge’s direction again, and when Dash knocks on the bakery door that week, all smiles and asking for Katniss, Mr. Mellark gently turns him away at her request while Peeta hides a satisfied smirk behind his hand.

 

\---

 

It takes a few weeks, but things return to normal. Less intense, less awkward. He kisses her on the forehead when she makes him laugh. They play chess and stay up late into the night just to talk.

 

They’re best friends. Family. That’s it.

 

That’s _it._

 

\---

 

| 

 

| 

   
  
---|---|---  
  
"Does Peeta have a girl?" Lolla Lincoln asks with great interest, eyeing him over a cup of spiced Harvest Day cider.

 

Somewhere along the way, Katniss acquired a group of Merchant girlfriends that she never sought out but got stuck with anyway. After this summer’s Reaping, there had been another party. Alcohol and sixteen-year-old hormones had come together in the form of Timm Lassetter, whom Katniss stopped from spiriting a drunken Lolla into the Slag Heap tree line. Peeta helped her sneak Lolla back home to her strict father, the town grocer who has no patience for drinking. Katniss hadn't been able to shake off the other girl since, and with her came a ready-made group of friends.

 

"Oh, no," Delly chimes in, smiling brightly over a vivid, purple scarf that's wrapped around her neck in a jaunty bow. Katniss thinks the Capitol trend is ridiculous, but it's the newest Victor's signature look, meaning it will be all the rage throughout the districts until next year.  "Everyone would know," she adds almost apologetically, looking at Katniss. "The entire school has a crush on Peeta, even the lower years."

 

Lolla nods. "Everyone positively hated you last summer," she says to Madge, who is strangely quiet as she nibbles on a pumpkin tart. "Getting kissed by the elusive Peeta Mellark."

 

"Well," Madge finally says, dusting off her hands on her expensive skirt. "He wasn't really interested in me."

 

Katniss tenses, but Madge doesn’t so much as glance her way.

 

Peeta seems to sense that he’s the topic of conversation, even from all the way across the square as he mans the bakery booth. He turns their way , his eyes seeking Katniss. He gives her a sweet smile and raises his eyebrows, pointing discreetly at a goat cheese and apple tart that he promised he'd save for her.

 

“I’ll be right back,” she tells them, walking toward Peeta.

 

“Hey,” he says, sliding the small pastry her way. “For goodness’ sake, don’t let Mother see.”

 

“I won’t.” She cups it in her palm stealthily. “I’m sorry I didn’t have Harvest Day duty. I know it’s my turn.”

 

Peeta shrugs. “Don’t worry about it.” He looks over her shoulder. “Your new best friends are looking this way,” he teases her.

 

Katniss shoots him a deadpan stare. “Don’t start.”

 

“Hey,” he protests with a smile. “I think it’s great you have some girl chums.”

 

“They’re only friends with me because of you,” she grumbles. He looks at her in confusion. “They like you.” She accents the word _like_ , and the word comes out more bitter than she intended. Her heart starts to pound when Peeta stares back at her, and there’s a look in his eyes that takes her back to last year.

 

 _No_. _She’s tried so hard...she can’t go back there…_

 

“Does that bother you?” he asks softly, toying with the festive table cloth they keep in reserve for Harvest Day.

 

“No,” she forces herself to say. “That’s sick.”

 

His eyes flash with hurt. “Sick,” he repeats coldly. “Go back to your friends, Katniss. They’re waving you down.”

 

She opens her mouth, wanting to apologize, wanting to say _something_ , but she knows that’s it better this way. She nods, and turns away to walk back to the girls.

 

"You're so lucky to have such a nice brother," Lolla says conversationally, threading her arm through Katniss'.  It feels like a chain. “Mine positively hates me.”

 

"Cousin." She looks at the other girl in surprise.

 

"Close enough!" Delly breaks in cheerfully, handing her a cup she purchased from the cider stall. “You two are joined at the hip.  It’s the cutest thing.”

 

“Adorable,” Lolla says sweetly, her blue eyes appraising.

 

“Peeta does like someone,” Katniss blurts out. She immediately hates herself for the lie, but she panics at the way Lolla looks at her.

 

All three girls stare at her with wide, interested eyes.

 

“Who?” Lolla demands. “Is it one of us?”

 

“I can’t say,” she lies loyally, feeling sick as she takes a sip of hot cider. It burns her lip, and she winces.

 

“Hmm,” the other girl practically purrs, exchanging a glance with Madge and Delly, who just look confused. “We’ll see.” She pulls away from Katniss and winks. “I’m going to go talk to him.” She studies Katniss’s face. “Is that okay with you?”

 

“Of course,” she says agreeably, feeling anything but.

 

\---

She watches as Lolla flirts with Peeta mercilessly. She should feel relieved when he smiles back at the girl, all easy charm and sparkling blue eyes. She should be _thrilled_ when Lolla succeeds in dragging him off toward her house, sneaking him furtive looks underneath her sickeningly long eyelashes as they wind through the Harvest Day crowds and disappear down a cobblestone alleyway.

 

“Katniss? Are you all right?” Madge asks gently. “Your hand…”

 

Katniss startles and looks down at the goat cheese and apple tart in her hand, crushed into mushy oblivion between her fingers.

 

\---

Peeta isn’t home for dinner.

\---

 

The bed dips down behind her, and she tenses until Peeta slides an arm around her, pulling her to his chest. Tears slide down her face.

 

“I just wanted to see,” he says quietly, and she recognizes the torment in his voice. He smells like Lolla’s perfume, and it makes her want to tear her hair out at the roots.

 

“See what?”

 

“If I could feel something.” He breathes into her hair. “Anything for another girl.”

 

“Did you?” she asks, the words catching in her throat.

 

“No,” he whispers. “Oh, _Katniss_. I wanted to.” His arm tightens around her. “But I can’t. Katniss, I-”

 

“We can’t do this,” she chokes out. “Peeta, it’s not right.”

 

“I know,” Peeta says. “We won’t-” He stumbles over the words. “I swear. I won’t...I won’t say anything again.”

 

“I love you,” Katniss says desperately, feeling as if she could die. Thinking of him with someone else... “You’re my family. My best friend. _Everything._ ”

 

“I love you, too,” he says,  and the anguish in his voice tears into her heart.

 

\---

 

Lolla strolls triumphantly through town with Peeta on her arm, and he looks miserable.

 

Katniss is miserable.

 

Dash asks her to be his girlfriend that winter, and she says yes. He’s so happy that he doesn’t even notice the half-hearted smile on her face, or the way she turns away when he tries to press a kiss to her lips, his mouth hitting her cheek instead.

 

They go on double-dates together-- her and Dash, Peeta and Lolla. They sit at the sweet shop and  sip at sickly-sweet fountain drinks and pretend to laugh at jokes that only Lolla and Dash think are actually funny.

 

\---

 

Spring comes. It’s nothing special. Katniss goes through the motions. She lets Dash put his hand up her skirt, put his mouth on her bare breasts.

 

She thinks about someone else.

 

She wonders if she should feel guilty when Dash finally introduces her to his parents a week before the Reaping, who despite being one of the wealthiest families in the Merchant sector are unbelievably nice to her over dinner.

 

“They already love you,” he says softly, hovering over her in bed. His parents are so trusting that they don’t even care that he took her upstairs and shut the door behind them. “ _I_ love you,” he tells her, the words painfully earnest.

 

She says the words back, mechanically. He takes off her clothes. He takes off _his_ clothes. He tries to make her feel good with his mouth like he has once before, but she’s nervous and only a little wet when he slides inside of her for the first time.

 

It hurts, and it’s horrible for her, but Dash is so grateful, so _happy_ that he cries after he pulls out and comes on her stomach.

 

\---

 

Peeta knows immediately. She doesn’t know how. He slams around the bakery, he drops a pan of cookies, and he doesn’t even flinch when Aunt Mallory cuffs him on the back of the head.

 

“What is _wrong_ with you, boy?” she yells. “Just- get out. Go upstairs.” She shakes her head. “You’re useless tonight.”

 

Katniss watches with helpless eyes as he stares at her with an unreadable expression before whirling around and walking upstairs with horribly slow, steady steps. Like a broken old man.

 

\--

 

“You fucked him,” Peeta says flatly, his voice dead as winter leaves.

 

She sucks in a shaky breath and stares at the sheet separating their bed. It’s flung aside and she blanches as she meets Peeta’s eyes. The room is lit up by the light of a full moon, and his eyes look otherworldly in the white-blue glow.

 

“Peeta-”

 

“I can’t believe you.”

 

“What do you want me to do?” she asks, sitting up and staring at him. “Peeta, you’re with Lolla!”

 

“I don’t care about her!” They both shoot anxious looks at the door, and he lowers his voice. “You know I don’t.”

 

“You can’t be upset with me for this.” Her hands shake in her lap. “You slept with Lolla.”

 

“No.” His voice is deadly calm. “I haven’t.”

 

“What?” Her mouth drops open. “What? But- the Harvest Festival. You’ve been...you’ve been dating for _months._ ”

 

“We’ve fooled around. But we’ve never…” He falters, his eyes wet and wounded. “Goddamn you, Katniss.” He puts his face in his hands.

 

She slides out of bed and sits down next to him, and lays her head on his shoulder. She doesn’t know what to do. How to stop this hurting between them.

 

“I’m going to sleep with her,” he says woodenly, the words muffled but sickeningly recognizable behind his palms. “I’m going to fuck her into the mattress.” His voice is low, and brutal, and full of everything they’ve refused to admit for the past year. “And I’ll think about you the whole time.”

 

“Why would you say that?” she whispers, frozen in pain. “You promised me you’d never bring this up again.”

 

“I’’m sorry. I can’t help how I-” He stops and turns away from her, lying down on the bed. “I just want you to hurt like me.”

 

She lies down next to him and he doesn’t pull away, and she falls into a troubled sleep, nightmares of snarling dogs and smothering hands over her mouth and large, weeping eyes blinking at her from the sky.

 

She wakes up with a gasping breath, and Peeta is staring down at her, his face a mask of remorse.

 

“What time is it?” she asks hoarsely.

 

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, cupping her face. “Katniss- I can’t. I can’t go into the Reaping like this. I’m sorry,” he adds desperately. “I’m not mad at you. You’re everything to me.”

 

She closes her eyes.

 

“I wish it had been you,” she says, her lips trembling as they spill out her shameful secret. “Not him.”

 

“Me too,” he says, kissing her forehead, her cheeks, her chin. “So much.”

 

They fall asleep with their arms around each other like they did when they were children.

 

\---

 

They stand under the hot Panem sun, and Katniss shifts on her feet nervously, bumping shoulders with the other seventeen-year-old girls. She stands on her toes and stares at the boy’s section, and her lips curl up in relief when she sees Peeta. She lifts her hand and waves, and he smiles straight at her, his gaze calm and steady.

 

She feels eyes on her back and she turns, meeting the cold stare of Lolla.

 

“Where’s Dash?” the other girl asks bitterly.

 

“I don’t know,” Katniss says, and turns away.  The Treaty of Treason plays, and the Capitol escort takes the stage, going through the motions, the same old song and dance. Katniss shakes as the woman draws a name from a bowl, and tenses as she reads it aloud.

 

“Lolla Lincoln!”

 

Everyone gasps and steps away, and Lolla freezes like a deer caught in crosshairs.

 

The escort calls her name again, and the other girl walks stiff-legged toward the stage. She turns back and meets Katniss’ eyes, and she stares back at her in shock. 

 

“Oh no,” Delly whimpers, clasping her hand. “Oh, no.”

 

She’s so busy trying to comfort Delly that she almost misses the boy’s name. Almost. Such a life-altering moment is almost missed completely.

 

“Peeta Mellark!”

 

Her world ends. Her vision goes black even as she blindly searches for Peeta, who is already moving toward the stage. Her throat is dry and her eyes are leaking a constant stream of tears, and she doesn’t realize she is screaming until Madge clasps a hand over her mouth and drags her to ground, rocking her back and forth.

 

“Stop! Katniss,” Madge hisses into her ear.  “ _Katniss_ , please- the Peacekeepers will come. You have to stop.”

 

She chokes on her sobs and collapses against Madge, and wills herself to wake up from this nightmare.

 

\---

 

“You have five minutes,” the Peacekeeper says not unsympathetically, and she rushes into the room. Peeta stands immediately, his eyes red-rimmed, and his mouth pressed together into a brave line.

 

“Peeta,” she whispers, throwing herself into his arms. He collapses backward onto a plush chair, and he rocks her back and forth on his lap. “Oh, Peeta, what are we going to do?”

 

“Katniss.” She looks up at the tone of his voice. Her face crumples at his expression. He looks like he’s given up. _No._ “You have to promise me that you’ll be okay. That you’ll-”

 

“Stop,” she hisses fiercely. “Peeta, you’re going to live. You can do this.”

 

“I don’t think I can,” he says honestly, the weight of the world in his words. “I want to. But I’m not a killer, Katniss. I wish I could be, for you.”

 

“Peeta Mellark.” She stares at him, her eyes hard and dry. “If you love me, you’ll come back. Do you hear me? You’re strong! You can lift two 100-pound sacks of flour with no problem at all!”

 

“Katniss-”

 

“No! Listen to me-- do you love me?”

 

“Of course,” he says, barely audible. “Katniss, I love you more than anything.”

 

He meets her eyes, and he’s soft and gentle as he tilts her chin up. He kisses her, deep and full, all of the love he feels for her pouring into the sealing of his mouth against hers, his tongue licking at her lips.

 

She opens her mouth and allows him in, groaning and clutching at his shoulders. The door opens with a clang, and Peeta doesn’t pull away, instead pulling her closer, his eyelashes fluttering against her cheeks.

 

She doesn’t feel ashamed when the Peacekeeper eyes them with shock and disgust. Of course he knows who they are; everyone knows Mellark’s Bakery. She presses one last kiss to his lips, and he sighs against them and touches his forehead to hers.

 

“If you love me, you’ll come back,” she says, even as the Peacekeeper is pulling her away. “Swear to me, Peeta! Promise me!”

 

“I- I promise,” he stutters, reaching out and grasping her fingers one last time, his eyes locking on hers desperately, drinking her in one last time. “I love you, Katniss.”

 

“I love y-”

 

The door shuts and locks, taking her last image of Peeta with it.

 

\---

 

She doesn’t sleep. She can’t. Aunt Mallory and Uncle Bran try to force her-- even try to slip some sleep syrup into her tea at night, but she is onto their tricks after they successfully drug her the second night Peeta is gone.

 

She has violent purple streaks under her eyes and her hair is a greasy, black mess on top of her head as she stares at Peeta and Lolla on the screen as they proudly ride a chariot through the parade of Tributes.

 

She’s sitting in the town square during the tribute interviews, and she smiles tearfully at how beautiful, at how _healthy_ he looks. He cracks jokes with Ceasar Flickerman, who in turn teases him back.

 

“Tell me, Peeta. Do you have a girl back at home?”

 

Peeta’s face grows tight, all jovial pretenses gone in a flash. “Yes.”

 

Katniss inhales, and she feels her Aunt and Uncle look at each other over her head.

 

“Oh, dear,” Ceasar tsks sympathetically. “I’m sure she’s rooting for you.”

 

“She is,” Peeta confirms. He stares straight at the camera and places a hand over his heart. “I swore that I’d come home to her. And I intend to keep that vow,” he finishes, his voice low with promise.

 

Katniss stares into his eyes  and hopes that he can feel her from across the country. Her hand creeps up to her chest, wishing that she could sustain his heartbeat with hers.

 

Lolla is interviewed next, and she’s so nervous and flustered that she does terribly, and Katniss can’t bring herself to care. If she’s honest with herself, she’s actually a little pleased.

 

Lolla has to die for Peeta to live.

 

\---

 

And she does.

 

Lolla is the first person to be slaughtered at the cornucopia, taking a spear right through the chest. Katniss ignores Madge’s look of admonishment and Delly’s sobs, instead softly cheering as Peeta slices the throat of the boy from Five and aligns himself with the Careers.

 

He can do this. He can play this game and win.

 

She smiles and puts on the show of her life when the cameras come from the Capitol.

 

“Are you proud of your cousin?” the interviewer asks her, his garish blue lips pulled back into a smile.

 

“Oh, yes.” She smiles back. “But then, I always knew he could do this.”

 

“Now, Katniss.” He leans forward. “Who is Peeta’s special girl at home?”

 

She shrugs, her eyes only sliding away uncomfortably for just a moment. “Oh, I can’t break his trust!” She lets out a fake but believable laugh and winks. “Let him tell you when he comes back home a winner.”

 

She collapses in on herself when the cameras leave, and she goes back to biting her nails and watching Peeta on TV. She almost dies when the Careers discuss the best way to betray him. She nearly faints when he's brutally cut in a sword fight with the boy from Two,  and _oh-_ \- when he kisses the girl from One right before literally stabbing her in the back.

 

And how she cries with him when Peeta despairs in a freezing cold cave by himself, his leg slowly but surely bleeding out. Even Aunt Mallory can’t hold back a scream when the camera pans in on the severity of the wound.

 

And when he’s the last one standing after the boy from One and the girl from Two kill each other in a standoff at the cornucopia, Katniss sobs in relief,  clutching at her hair and thanking every higher power in existence.

 

\---

 

Peeta loses his leg.

 

Katniss could tell the wounds were bad when he was plucked out of the arena, but seeing it on screen during his exit interview with Ceasar Flickerman is a shock to everyone’s system.

 

Aunt Mallory curses under breath when he lifts his leg and shows his prosthetic one beneath the fine material of his pants, a reserved smile on his face as he explains that he has top-of-the-line machinery that will probably outlast his real leg.

 

Katniss drops to her knees right there in the kitchen. She barely listens to Peeta deftly avoid questions about the girl waiting for him back in District Twelve. 

 

“It could be worse,” Uncle Bran says softly, his hand coming down to rest on her shoulder. “He’s coming home to us. That’s all that matters.”

 

“I don’t care about his leg,” she cries. “I just want him _home_.”

 

\---

 

The train pulls in.

 

The crowds are gathered.

Katniss breathes in the stale, sweaty aroma of the bodies packed around her even though she’s at the front of the pack. She listens to her aunt complain about the heat. She swats a mosquito away from her face.

 

_And there he is._

 

He’s not waving. He’s not smiling. The cheering crowd slowly quiets, unsure of how to greet a stone-faced Victor instead of the sweetly smiling baker’s boy.

 

He moves down the steps a little awkwardly, and the crowd instinctively pushes backward, as if collectively taking one large breath and holding it inside. Even his parents have made a breadth of space.

 

Peeta stops in front of Katniss, and he touches her wet face. He wipes the moisture from her cheeks with two rough palms, grabs her hand and yanks her through a gap that has formed in the crowd. 

 

“Peeta-” she starts, but he ignores her, his head locked straight ahead as he moves forward.

 

She hears her aunt calling for them, outrage in her voice, but the murmuring crowd drowns her out as they march through the square toward the bakery. She vaguely registers Dash’s shocked face as they pass by him. Peeta says nothing to her, doesn’t even turn around to look at her until they’ve reached their bedroom.

 

He flings the door open and pulls them inside. “Pack,” he says, not letting go of her hand. 

 

She searches his face, confusion warring with happiness and fear. “Peeta?” she asks, stepping closer. He steps away from her, a direct contradiction to the way his fingers tighten around her. “What’s going on?”

 

“We’re moving.” His jaw clenches. “I have to live in Victors Village. You know that.”

 

“Well, yes,” Katniss says slowly. “But-”

 

“But, what?” he snarls. “What don’t you get?”

 

She flinches.

 

His face softens, and she sees Peeta, _her_ Peeta, in his expression.  He visibly calms himself before speaking again. “Katniss. Please.” He sits down on her bed and pulls her down next to him. Her hand ends up in his lap, and he clutches it with all ten of his fingers. Peeta stares at the floor and takes a deep breath. “I need you to come with me. I need you to live with me.”

 

He looks up at her then, and she sees all the anguish, vulnerability and anger that he held back on Capitol TV. “Please,” he says. “I need you.”

 

She lays her head on his shoulder. “Yes.”

 

She can’t believe he’d think otherwise. She’ll never let him out of her sight again. As long as she lives.

 

He closes his eyes and opens them again. “You’ll stay with me?” Peeta asks again, his voice breaking.

 

She murmurs her answer.

 

\---

 

They pack their things. His parents don’t understand. They try to talk to Peeta, but he answers in monosyllabic words, if at all.

 

“Son-” Mr. Mellark stammers, his rounded cheeks darkening.

 

“She can’t go with you,” his mother all but screeches, her hands flying up in the air with her words. “We need help in the bakery.”

 

“I can still help,” Katniss reassures her aunt, giving Peeta a warning look when his eyes start to flash. “It’s not a long walk from Victors Village to town.”

 

“It’s inconvenient." His father's words are stiff and halted. “I don’t know if-”

 

“Let’s call it what it is.” Mrs. Mellark crosses her arms, lines of tension webbing around her mouth. “It’s _scandalous_. It’s downright improper. Do you know what people are saying?”  She slams a hand down on the table. “They’re saying that you two- that Katniss-”

 

“It’s done,” Peeta snaps, looking at his cousin. He grabs her hand.  “The car is here, Katniss.”

 

“A car?” she repeats, allowing herself to be dragged toward the door. She’s only ever seen them on television or when the Capitol people come to Twelve.

 

“To move us to the Village,” he explains impatiently, brushing past his gaping parents.

 

They gather their meager belongings that fit inside of two burlaps sacks and walk out into the sunlight. Curious faces peer out from windows and street corners as he and Katniss crawl into the spacious back seat of the automobile.

 

Katniss jumps when the door shuts.

 

“It’s okay,” he tells her. He pulls a belted contraption across her chest and buckles her in. “You’re safe.”

 

“This feels like a death trap.”

 

Peeta slides his hand into hers. “There are much worse things,” he says in an absent voice, staring out the window at the merchant buildings as they pass.

 

\---

 

“Oh my goodness,” she breathes, turning in stunned circles. The entrance hallway is bigger than her entire Seam shack.

 

“It’s just a house.” Peeta motions her upstairs, limping a little as he goes.

 

She follows behind him with numb legs, her eyes widening even further at the sheer number of doors that they pass. Peeta opens every one before nodding in satisfaction at the one toward the end of the hall.

 

“I saw a floor plan back in the Capitol, but the layout is slightly different than what I remember,” he says, opening the door. “This will be our room.”

 

“Together?” Katniss asks, looking at the huge, ornate bed. She thinks about the kiss they shared before he left for the Capitol and wonders what it means for them.

 

“Together.” He drops their bags onto the floor. Pauses. “Or, did you...want your own room?”

 

She hates the vulnerable, worried look on his face. “I go wherever you go.” Katniss squeezes his shoulder. “Wherever you want me.”

 

“Right now I want you on the bed,” Peeta tells her. And even though the sun is still high in the sky, he climbs on top of it and buries his head in a pillow. “I’m so tired, Katniss.” His muffled voice is barely audible, but she crawls in after him and curls into his side.

 

“Let’s just nap,” she says into his back, her arm snaking around him. “You’ll feel better afterwards.”

 

“You make me feel better,” he says.

 

\---

 

But she doesn’t make him feel better. She tries, and no matter what she does after their first day in their new house, nothing she does is right. Katniss feels terrible, because having him home and alive is the most important thing, it’s what she prayed for daily, but she doesn’t know what to do with this Peeta that lies in bed until two and can sometimes go a whole day without speaking to her. He doesn’t touch her except at night, when he wakes from a nightmare and pulls her to his chest, his heart thumping wildly beneath her ear.

 

He won’t leave the house, not even to say hello to old friends who are brave enough to ring the doorbell. Not even for his father, who contritely brings bread to make peace with his son.

 

The only person he’ll talk to other than Katniss is Haymitch, and even those conversations are in short supply.

 

Two weeks pass before Katniss reaches her limit.

 

“Peeta,” she says cheerfully, opening up the blinds of their bedroom. “Wake up!”

 

“No,” the lump on the bed mumbles.

 

“I’m not asking. I’m telling.”

 

“Big deal.”

 

“Don’t you want to go for a walk?” she coaxes, sitting on the edge of the bed. “It’s nice out.”

 

“No.”

 

“But-”

 

“I said no, dammit!”

 

She flinches.

 

Peeta rustles under the covers, and his head emerges from beneath the blanket. “I didn’t mean to yell,” he says, his face drawn and tired. “Fine. We’ll go for a walk.”

 

He dresses slowly, like an old man. He stumbles a little on his new leg when he puts on a pair of pants, and she bites her lip hard enough to refrain from asking _do you need help?_ He shoots her a glare, and she makes sure she’s staring out the bedroom window when he tries to catch her looking at him.

 

Katniss cheers inwardly when they step out the front door, ignoring Peeta’s grimace when the sunlight hits his face.

 

“So, where are we walking?” Peeta asks.

 

“Oh. Um.” She hadn’t thought that far ahead. “How about we just circle the neighborhood?”

 

“The neighborhood,” he snorts, but takes the arm she offers and starts walking. “Ghost town, more like it. You, the town drunk, and the boy who should have died.”

 

“Stop,” she says, sharp as glass. “Never say that again.”

 

He softens, his foot catching on a bit of uneven pavement. “Katniss.”

 

“Just--” She looks straight ahead, her arm tightening around his. “I know this is hard for you. I get it. I know you think I don’t. That I can’t possibly understand.” She sneaks a look at him, and sees that he’s listening intently. “I know you have night terrors. I know that what you went through is...was...hell.”

 

He nods, but remains quiet.

 

“But you’re alive, Peeta. You’re here.” She stops at the end of the street, empty houses looming around them. She untangles her arm from his and takes a breath. A bird alights on a lamp post, the only witness to her speech. “I don’t care what you had to do to survive. I don’t care that you lost your leg. If I could have traded places with you, I would have. But you survived and those other kids didn’t, and you need to act like it instead of acting like a ghost. Do you understand? I need you. I _love_ you. You promised to come back to me, and you did. But I need you here, with me.”

 

He stares at her for a moment. “Okay.”

 

“Okay?”

 

“I’ll be here. For you,” he says quietly. “I’ll try.”

 

She searches his eyes until she’s satisfied with what she sees there. Her eyes go soft, and she reaches out to touch his mouth. She leans forward, tilting her head. Peeta turns his face, and her lips press against his smooth cheek instead.

 

The pang in her heart lessens when Peeta pulls her to his chest, holding her tight, as if he can’t bear to let her go.

 

\---

 

“Don’t go,” Peeta says, hovering behind her. His mouth is set in a tense, straight line, his hands clenched at his side.”

 

“It’s been three weeks.” Katniss pulls on her boots and tries to stay strong in the face of his anxiety. “Peeta, I have to. Your parents are going crazy without help.” She doesn’t say that she’s going a little stir crazy herself.

 

“Let them hire someone else, then. They know they’re going to need to eventually. It’s not like I can ever come back and work at the bakery now.” He doesn’t try to hide the bitterness in his voice. Peeta doesn’t talk about the bakery and the loss of his legacy, but she knows that it kills him that he’ll never work there again. She’s tried to convince him to bake for the fun of it, but he won’t even so much as touch an ounce of flour.

 

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“How do you figure? There’s hundreds of people in Twelve who would line up for that job.”

 

“But they need me.” She stands up and reaches for her jacket on the coat rack beside the front door. “Even if they hired someone today, it'll take time to train someone new.”

 

“Oh, really?” Peeta scoffs, his tone turning ugly. “You’ve worked there for years and you can still barely bake a loaf of raisin bread that passes muster. I almost chipped a tooth yesterday on those things you call muffins.” He rolls his eyes. “Believe me. They can live without you.”

 

“Oh.” She recoils as if slapped. “I’m sorry if my food isn’t up to your standards,” Katniss says stiffly, blinking back the moisture in her eyes.

 

His face falls, self-loathing clouding his eyes. “I didn’t mean that- wait-” He reaches for her, but she dodges him and opens the door. “Don’t go- please-”

 

“Goodbye, Peeta.” She shuts the door on his desperate face.

 

\---

 

She dumps a tray of cookies on the floor. Aunt Mallory screams at her. The customers stare her way as if she is a bug they’re inspecting.

 

She knows they’re dying to ask her about Peeta. The few times she had spoken to Madge clued her in on the fact that everyone is speculating that she’s Peeta’s mystery girl, but Katniss knows that no one will have the guts to ask her outright. At least, she hopes. With the mood she’s in, she’d probably snap completely and tell them all that she’s pregnant with her cousin’s baby.

 

“How is Peeta?” Uncle Bran asks in a hesitant, subdued tone. She startles when he drops a hand on her shoulder.

 

“He’s fine,” Katniss says, avoiding his eyes. “As well as can be expected.”

 

“Are you all right?” He looks at her searchingly. “Is he- are you getting along? He’s treating you okay?”

 

She flushes under his scrutiny, slicing the bread a little harder than before.

 

“Yes.”

 

He nods doubtfully, touching her shoulder one last time before moving away. Katniss exhales in relief. Despite her and Peeta’s fight, and even after being isolated for weeks, she finds herself yearning to be home. Her skin literally crawls with the need to be near him.

 

“Uncle Bran,” she calls out, making a decision.

 

He turns around.

 

“You need to hire someone else,” she says simply.

 

It’s dark by the time she returns to Victors Village. She pushes open the front door, her body slumping with exhaustion in both the mental and physical sense. She sniffs the air and wonders if it’s possible that she dragged in the scent of the bakery with her. She swears that she can smell cheese buns in the air, but that’s impossible. They didn’t make any today.

 

Katniss has barely shut the door behind her when she’s ambushed from the side. She lets out a little scream.

 

“You came back,” Peeta all but sobs, his arms wrapping around her.

 

“Peeta,” she says, stunned. They slide to the floor together, Peeta clinging to her so tightly that she can barely breathe.

 

“I thought you were gone- that you weren’t coming back. After what I said-”

 

“I’m not going anywhere.” She clutches his hair in her hands and forces him to look at her, his eyes wild. She kisses his damp forehead. “I’ll always come back.”

 

He slumps against her, and she bears the heavy weight of his body with gratitude. Because he’s warm and alive. She can bear _anything_ , as long he’s next to her.

 

“Katniss,” he says wearily, his head on her shoulder. “I made you cheese buns.”

 

She turns to stare at him, and low chuckles of disbelief dissolve into doubled-over laughter. He pulls Katniss to her feet, and feeds her bits of pastry while she sits on his lap at the too-big dining room table.

 

It’s a good night.

 

\---

 

“Someone’s at the door,” Peeta says, his head cocked in surprise. His hands are covered in paint, his hair adorably mussed. “It’s getting late.”

 

Katniss had encouraged him to start painting again, and Peeta chose it as his Victor talent. He was tasked to create a series of paintings that will be displayed during his Victory Tour, an event rapidly approaching but largely ignored by them both. The most Peeta has said about it is that he’s going to arrange for her to go with him, no matter what.

 

“Is that a hint I should answer it?” she asks dryly, already pushing herself off the floor where she’s been watching him work.

 

He wiggles his fingers at her.

 

“Fine.” She sighs, forcing a smile. It’s too much to hope that he would answer the door, even without already being preoccupied by painting. It worries her, how anti-social he is now. Haymitch assured her in that alcohol-soaked way of his that it was perfectly normal behavior for a new Victor, but it’s hard to take seriously the word of someone who promptly threw up in the bushes a moment later.

 

She jogs downstairs and opens the door, her face dropping in surprise.

 

“Wow,” Dash says ruefully. “That’s not a happy face at all. It’s good to see you too, Katniss.”

 

“H-Hi,” she stammers. “Dash, what are you doing here?”

 

“Formally? I came on behalf of my dad,” he says. “I’m supposed to tell Peeta that his business is welcome at the butcher shop.” Dash wasn’t the first Merchant to stop by to curry the favor of Peeta, newly rich from Victor money. “Unofficially...I came for you.”

 

“Oh.” She stares at him with blank eyes, shifting on her feet. “I’m sorry, but- we’re not together anymore. I know I treated you poorly, and I’m sorry for that.”

 

Dash shakes his head, a stubborn tilt to his chin. “No.”

 

“You’re a great boy, truly-”

 

“We’re so good together, Katniss. And I love you. I want to marry you.” Her heart drops when he looks at her with that hopeful, earnest expression. “You can’t play house with your cousin forever.” He drops his voice. “I don’t believe what everyone’s been saying-”

 

“He needs me,” she says firmly.

 

“I need you!”

 

Katniss hears Peeta thump down the stairs, and she cringes when the he appears at her side.

 

“Hello and goodbye,” Peeta says, staring cold daggers at Dash.

 

“I’m speaking to your cousin.”

 

“I said get the _fuck_ out.”

 

Katniss gapes at him. “Peeta,” she says, dismayed. She lays a comforting hand on his arm. “Dash was just stopping by to-”

 

He throws her a derisive look. “I know why he was here. Loverboy can go now.” Peeta directs his glare back at Dash. “Katniss doesn’t want you. She doesn’t love you. Just ask her.”

 

The other boy looks at her with pleading eyes, and she drops her own to the floor. She wants to melt away.

 

“Tell him,” Peeta demands loudly, his hand on her shoulder. “ _Tell_  him, Katniss!”

 

“Don’t touch her,” Dash says, furious.

 

She shrugs away from Peeta. “Dash, you need to go. I’m sorry. I really am.” She gently closes the door in his face and turns and walks toward the stairs.

 

“I’m tired” is all she says to Peeta. She dodges him when he reaches out a hand to stop her. “I’m going to bed.”

 

“What the hell was that?” he asks, hot on her tail as she steps onto the second floor landing. She glares at Peeta over her shoulder. “You’re _sorry_? Why are you sorry? Dash is an idiot.”

 

Katniss pushes open their bedroom door violently. “He’s nice. He didn’t deserve that.”

 

“To hell with him,” Peeta all but roars. “Do you want him? Huh? Go, then! Go fuck him again!’

 

She stops in front of the bed. “I can’t believe you said that.”

 

“It’s the truth, isn’t it? You did it before.” He stares at her. “Why not again?”

 

Her eyes well with tears, and all of the frustration, self-doubt and anxiety spills over onto her olive-toned cheeks.

 

“Do you even want me here?” she asks, swallowing hard. She drops down onto the bed heavily.

 

“How can you even ask me that?” He stalks toward her. “You’re _all_ I want. You’re all I’ve ever wanted.” He stops and drops to his knees in front of her. “God, Katniss- please. Don’t cry. I never wanted to make you cry.”

 

“Peeta,” Katniss says, her head in her hands. “Sometimes I think you hate me.”

 

“I could never hate you.” He pulls her hands from her face and clutches them in his own. “Ever. I’m...I’m just so fucked up, Katniss. I’m sorry. I’ve taken this out on you. Please forgive me. Please, I’ll do anything. I’ll apologize to Dash right now. I don’t- I don’t know why I acted like that. I saw him, and I heard what he was saying...I couldn’t handle it.”

 

“I’m here, with you. I choose you. For always.” She lifts her head. “How could you be jealous of him?”

 

“Plenty of reasons,” he says,  his own eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “You know why.”

 

“I wish it had never happened.” She shrugs helplessly, her eyes sad. “But it did, and I can’t change it.”

 

“I know,” he tells her. “And I don’t blame you. I’m not mad at anyone but myself. I swore- I swore I wouldn’t let the Games change me, but look at me. I’m constantly hurting the person I love most in the world.”

 

“What can I do to help?” she asks, reaching out to caress his hair. He leans into her touch.

 

“Just love me.” He presses his forehead against her fingers.

 

Katniss tugs on his hands and stands, and he rises to his feet.

 

“Let’s go to bed,” she says softly, letting go of his hands. She strips out of her pants and crawls under the covers. “We’ll talk in the morning.”

 

\---

 

She wakes up and it’s dark outside, but the moon is bright and casting light over Peeta’s face as he stares at her.

 

“You’re awake,” she croaks, still groggy. She touches the dark streaks under his eyes. “Oh, Peeta. Did you even sleep at all?”

 

“I couldn’t.” He catches her hand in his and brings it to his lips. “I’m sorry,” he says, the remorse in his voice palpable. “I’m a monster.”

 

“You’re not.”

 

“How can you say that?” Peeta shakes his head, his face troubled and beautiful. “I would kill someone for treating you the way I have since I’ve come home. Sometimes...sometimes I think it would have been better for you if I never came back.”

 

“I would have died if you hadn’t,” she says, matter-of-fact. “You can tell me you hate me every day, and I’ll still want you.”

 

“Katniss.” He looks sad, devastated. “You deserve better than this. Me. Holding you back.” He inhales, struggling. “Someone like Dash, who’s normal. Who can give you a life that you won’t be ashamed of.”

 

She puts her hand over his lips. “I don’t want Dash. Never did.” She stops and takes in his pale face and the dark slashes under his eyes. “You’re so tired, Peeta. We can talk about this tomorrow. You need sleep. You don’t get enough of it, as it is.”

 

He nods, resigned. “I’ll try.”

 

Katniss hesitates. “Should you-”

 

“What?”

 

“Take off your leg?” she asks quietly. “Please? It has to be more comfortable that way. You never take a break.”

 

His face whitens, and he rolls over to his side and hovers over her. “No.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because.” He glares down into her eyes. “Don’t ask me that.”

 

“But, why?”

 

“I don’t want you to see me like that. Not yet. Maybe not _ever_.”

 

“Peeta, I don’t _care_ -”

 

“Well, I do!” he all but shouts. His chest heaves and she places her palm on the skin over his beating heart and rubs there gently.

 

“Shhh, it’s okay,” she tells him, wanting to scrub the wild look from his eyes. “You don’t have to, all right? You don’t have to do _anything_ you don’t want to do ever again.”

 

“I’m sorry.” He deflates, kissing her forehead. “Katniss, please, I- I don’t mean to yell at you. I love you.” His lips press to her cheek. “You know I do.”

 

“I love you, too,” she says, and the words are swallowed by his mouth on hers.

 

Katniss moans and arches into him, and his tongue prods at the seam of her mouth until she opens to him. His body flattens against hers and she feels smothered by his weight and sheer presence alone, but it’s good, it’s wrong but it’s _good_ , because he’s with her and alive and she loves him so much.

 

He props himself on his elbows and pulls his lips from hers, gasping for breath.

 

“You feel good,” Peeta mutters, closing his eyes. She feels the unforgiving length of him pressed against her stomach, then lower, and then he’s rocking against her, his face nestled into her neck and his body against hers in a clumsy, primal rhythm.  “Can I- please-”

 

“Yes,” Katniss whispers, “use me.”

 

She runs her hands down his back as he thrusts against the center of her, squeezing her eyes shut when his hardness hits her _just so_.

 

“Is that good?” he asks lowly. He groans and speeds up his pace, exhaling sharp little pants into her skin. “Ugh, Katniss, I’m- I’m gonna-” He makes a moaning noise that’s caught between gasping and choking, his back bowing and his hands grasping her hips desperately.

 

She stares up at him and marvels at the look on his face, like he’s caught between pleasure and pain. She strokes his cheek as he comes down from his high, and when he opens his eyes, they’re unfocused and dreamy as looks down at her. He searches her face for a moment, and as the pleasure-filled haze leaves his eyes, she can see what quickly takes its place is confusion and something like fear.

 

“That was beautiful,” she says, leaning up for a kiss.

 

Peeta’s face crumples. “You- I-”

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

He jerks away from her searching hands and rolls away to the other side of the bed, his back facing Katniss. “Don’t.”

 

“Don’t what?” she asks, bewildered and hurt, her fingers hovering helplessly over his back. A tremor runs through his body, but he doesn’t turn to face her.

 

“Don’t touch me.”

 

“Why not?” she asks, her voice getting louder.

 

“I’m filthy,” he says, barely audible. “I’m disgusting. I should have never put my hands on you. I couldn’t help it. I’m weak.”

 

“I want you to touch me. I don’t care what people say- that we’re cousins-”

 

“I don’t care about that,” Peeta says harshly, rolling over and sitting up. “Gods above, you think that matters to me? That we’re cousins? We’re so far beyond that. I don’t give a damn what anyone thinks, or says.”

 

“Then what- I don’t understand-”

 

“I’m a killer, Katniss! I’m not whole! I’m disgusting. I’m a mess.” The anguish in his eyes is palpable. “I’m not worthy of you,” he bites out, his hand clutching his hair. 

 

“Stop!” She grabs his hand, but he jerks away.

 

“I know the truth.” He shakes his head. “But my deformity did do me one favor.” His lips twist. “D’you know what saved me from a life of Capitol prostitution, Katniss? It turns out-- Victors are only desirable when they’re a real man. Complete. And there aren’t enough body polishes in the world that would make a Capitolite touch a cripple like me.” His face drops at her expression. “Katniss-”

 

“Don’t you dare,” she hisses, moving so fast that she’s straddling him before he can protest. She frames his face with her hands. “How _dare_ you compare me to one of them?”

 

Katniss leans forward and steals his kiss, her tongue flicking out and forcing entry betweens his lips. She plunders his mouth furiously, pouring her frustrating, her anger, her despair into the kiss.

 

He pulls back with a gasp, his head landing against the pillow. She follows him, her nose pressed against his.

 

“You’re real, Peeta.” She leans back and strips off her shirt, leaving her bare chested. “You’re real, and you’re wholly _mine_.”

 

He helps her peel off her panties in a daze, his hands lifting her waist so she can kick them free from her bare feet. He gazes at her chest, lifting his eyes to hers pleadingly.

 

“Katniss-”

 

She presses his head to her breast, encouraging his lips to suck gently on her nipples. He moans around them, his hand squeezing her waist. She lets him have free reign of her body until she can’t stand it anymore, the pressure in her abdomen demanding relief.

 

“You, next,” she says, the soft demand met with his confused, handsome face. “Your clothes, Peeta.”

 

He blanches. “I don’t- I...” 

 

“I want to see you.” She reaches out to brush her thumb across his cheek. “Lift your arms.”

 

Peeta raises them obediently, and she pulls his shirt over his head, revealing his bare chest to her.

 

“Your pants,” she says, and his fingers extend into rigid points, his eyes dropping to the bed cover. “Please, Peeta. They’re a mess now anyway.”

 

He huffs. Sighs. But he allows her to help him remove his sleep pants, the material catching on his leg for one tense moment, but she soothes him with a kiss to his smooth chest. She can feel his anxiety, the way his heart beats like a bird’s wing beneath his skin. She leans back on her heels and takes him in.

 

He’s all lines and angles and warm skin.  He doesn’t have on any underpants, and his erection is something to behold, even half-hard and sticky with his former release. She wraps her hand around him and he twitches and grows beneath her damp palm.

 

“Oh,” he sighs, collapsing flat against the bed at her first experimental tug. “Oh, Katniss-” He almost flies off the bed when her tongue touches the crown of his cock. “Wait- wait,” he pants, gently pushing her head away. She looks up at him questioningly, and he shakes his head. “I’ve wanted you so long, and I want- I want to be inside you. If you’ll allow it.”  

 

“I’ll allow it,” Katniss murmurs, kissing him.

 

“I’ve had a shot- in the Capitol. They give all the Victors shots just in case.” He stumbles over his words. “So there aren’t any babies.”

 

She stops him with a _shhh_ , her hand stroking his thigh , then lower. He tenses when she reaches his prosthetic leg, and they communicate silently before he gives a short, sharp nod of consent. Together, they remove the piece of machinery, and she props it carefully against the bedside table before turning her attention to him again.

 

Peeta watches with vulnerable eyes while she takes in what’s left of his leg. The skin is nicely healed despite only having been amputated a short while ago, but there’s an endless source of medical magic available in the Capitol. Even still, the skin is chafed and red, most likely a result from both the newness and constant wearing of the prosthesis.

 

“I know.” He rubs his face. “It’s horrible.”

 

“No,” she says, leaning down and kissing him on the reddened skin. “You’re perfect.”

 

Peeta sucks in a breath.

 

“Amazing.” She kisses a trail up his thigh. “Awe-inspiring.” She passes his erection and kisses his hipbone, gnawing lightly. “And brave. My brave, wonderful boy.”

 

His eyes are liquid blue when Katniss reaches his lips. He brushes her hair away from her face, pulling back to look at her.

 

“And you’re my girl, Katniss.” He leans forward for a kiss, his tongue searching for hers. He slides it into her mouth, and she sucks lightly on his tongue in return. His hands slip down to cup her backside, and he lifts her to straddle his lap. She can feel his erection now, fully hard against her wet center. “Always have been. Always will be.”

 

“I want you,” Katniss says, reaching down and lining him up to her opening. She raises her hips, hovering over him. “Do you- do you mind me like this?”

 

“Are you kidding?” He laughs, the sound half-strangled. His eyes are bright and feverish. “Please, please-”

 

She lowers herself onto him. Peeta goes silent, his mouth forming an ‘o’ that she can’t help but kiss. His hands grip her waist when she starts to move up and down, back and forth, the rhythm a little clumsy but earnest.

 

“You’re my first, Katniss.” He blinks up at her, his face flushed. Peeta clutches her hips, his face crumpling with pleasure. “My only. _Please_ , be my only.”

 

“No one else,” Katniss sighs, her hands curling into his hair when he thrusts his hips upward in a way that sends a sharp thread of pleasure-pain up her spine. “It wasn’t like this- oh, Peeta. You feel-” She breaks off with a gasp when she finds herself flipped beneath him, his body, still so strong, caging her in. 

 

His arms brace above her, his forehead touching hers as he thrusts into her experimentally. “You’re mine,” he groans. “Mine, you understand?” 

 

“Yours- _oh_ , mmm _,_ ” she moans, arching when he bites her jaw. “Only yours, Peeta.”

 

He stares down at her, his mouth parted as he soaks her in. She feels as if she’s being worshipped with just a glance of his eyes.“I don’t want it to end,” he swears, a string of muttered curses falling from his lips when she reaches down and strokes herself. “ _Katniss_.”

 

She pets his back and wraps her legs around his waist, overwhelmed with the feel of him above her, around her, inside of her. Her breasts bounce with the force of his thrusts, his hips jerking into hers erratically.

 

“Let go,” she tells him, a bead of sweat rolling from his forehead and onto hers. “Let go inside of me.”

 

He shouts her name and gives one last thrust before stilling completely, his face frozen as he empties himself inside of her. “Katniss,” he murmurs, his head dropping into the crease of her neck. “Oh, I’ve never-” He struggles for words. “I’ve never been this happy. I can’t remember the last time I’ve felt so- so _glad_.”

 

“Me, too.”

 

“I’m _happy._ ” He nuzzles her, the awe in his voice so sweet it makes her want to cry. “It’s been so long.”

 

“Every day,” she promises him. “Every day, we can be just like this.”

 

\----

 

“Are you sure you’re up to this?”

 

“I’m sure.”

 

“Because we can stay home.” Katniss looks at him anxiously. She’s been the one gently pushing him to leave Victors Village and go into town, and now it’s her that’s getting cold feet. It’s just that every time they’ve tried to make the trek in the past, Peeta would seize up and turn right back around. “We can miss the Harvest Festival-” 

 

“I’m _fine_ , Katniss.” He tugs on her braid, and she revels in the teasing twist of his lips. But underneath his bravado, she knows he’s worried. He wants to do this for her, though. And for himself.

 

“All right,” she concedes, allowing him to help her slide on the luxurious winter coat that he ordered from the Capitol for her. It’s taken her a couple of months to accept that he’s going to spend money on her whether she likes it or not. And if it makes him feel better about his Victor winnings, she’ll allow Peeta almost anything. “Remember! If you get tired- or if all the people are too much for you-”

 

“- we’ll leave right away,” he finishes for her, swiftly buttoning her coat for her with nimble fingers. He kisses her on the nose and leads her out the front door. “Come on, worried bunny.”

 

“I’m not a bunny!” she huffs, sliding her hand into his. 

 

“You’re my bunny.”

 

They bicker back and forth all the way into town, stopping on the edge of the city limits. The smell of baked goods and cinnamon cider is in the air. Shouts of children ring out into the sky.

 

“You ready?” She drops his hand, and his lips turn down. She doesn’t want it to be that way, but she figures it might be best to not rock the boat on the first foray into town.

 

He nods, and they enter the fray.

 

It’s okay at first. People eye them warily, a few of the ruder people openly jabbing each other with their elbows. Peeta asks her if she wants a cup of cider, and he walks off to get it, squaring his shoulders bravely as he goes alone.

 

“Hey,” a familiar voice says.

 

She turns around. “Hi, Dash.”

 

“Your keeper finally let you out of the house?”

 

“I’m sorry I hurt you, Dash. But don’t be bitter,” she says softly.

 

“I’m not bitter. I’m worried for you.”

 

“It’s not like that.” Katniss shakes her head at him.

 

He runs a hand through his dark blonde hair. “Seemed like it to me.”

 

“He was having an off day.” Katniss nods behind him. “Peeta’s coming back. I think it’d be best if you left-”

 

Hot cider hits the ground, splashing her shoes. Warm hands cup her face, and Peeta’s mouth is on hers, claiming her lips in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

 

Peeta draws back, but his arms stay around her.

 

“I’m not sorry,” he says, kissing her again. Gasps ring out in the square, and she closes her eyes. “I love you. I don’t care if the whole world knows it.”

 

When Katniss pulls back from his embrace, the first thing she sees is Dash’s shocked face, mixed with a healthy dash of horror and disgust. His expression mirrors the rest of the District, who are gaping at them with stunned eyes.

 

But Katniss doesn’t care about that, because the second thing she sees is a Capitol television crew with a camera aimed directly at them. 

 

She turns to face Peeta.

 

“That’s good,” Katniss says, her voice calmer than her nerves. “Because our secret is out.”  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for S2SL, a wonderful charity. 
> 
> Thank you to Shannon, my beta. All mistakes are mine. 
> 
> I'm peetaspenis on tumblr. Come hang out!


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